Scarves and Three Piece Suits
by KP704
Summary: The four times Ariadne showed no favoritism and the one time she did. A series of one shots.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, the idea belongs solely to Chris Nolan and his epicosity!

Author's Note: Ever since I saw the movie my muse to write seemed to finally resurrect itself. And it hardcore wants Ariadne and Arthur to hook up Lol. Figures, it's the inner romantic in me, but at the same time. I loved Ariadne's character, and I wanted to play around with writing before I try to convince myself to do something more longer in content.

Differences between Living and _Living_

Ariadne could imagine vast landscapes and towering cathedrals upon cathedrals with sprawling planes of green meadows a sky so blue that it seemed infinite. In her college days she would spend days exploring the ancient beauty of Paris and in the nights cooped in her dorm drawing, planning, and imagining some more. In her mind lines, formulas and theories ran rampant as if writing on glass walls. But it was never enough for Ariadne, to imagine but not be able to get anywhere with it because it was too far fetched, too fantastical. She was taught to be realistic, and she was always practical. It was what made her the best in class. Observing was her hobby, taking in everything with an outsider's perspective. It was good to be able to perceive better than the student next to you.

_It was always easier to look and not take that step into reality. _

Eventually though, all the things not attached to work – socializing, dating, _having fun_— began to feel out of reach to her. Declining the invitations to enjoy the Parisian nightlife became second nature to her. Her phone calls to her parents were becoming fewer and farther in between. Her thirst for knowledge and passion for learning became what Ariadne lived for, but there was something still missing. Within the midst of creation and work she pushed herself into her own isolated castle of beautiful architecture with silent hallways and rooms. Ariadne realized too late then, that to try to build a bridge upon burnt ones never worked too well. The snubbed faces of colleagues and friends were testimony to that.

So Ariadne continued to live in her silent castle of creation, where all she had to think about were lines melding together and the graphite of her pencil never running low. Sometimes she would get a reprieve from it all in the form of Professor Miles, who would take her by elbow and lead her to lunch when the shadows under eyes seemed too deep. Other than that, life continued on with the countdown until graduation getting shorter each day.

_This must have been what being curtained in darkness felt like. _

Until one day Professor Miles introduced her to Cobb, and the chance to achieve the dreams that seemed too fantastical seemed possible. Ironically, all her dreams could be achieved in a dream.

Everything seemed to shift then, her world seemed to swivel on its axis and the beautiful castle begins to crumble. Her thoughts of morality began to shift into more grays, but it was a consequence she could handle.

When she came back, she knew it was inevitable. Waiting in the ramshackle warehouse upon her return Arthur had said, "There's nothing quite like it." Ariadne had to agree, because _it was pure creation_ and what she had felt was missing in her life. Those nights spent sleeping upon the composite sketches of her cities was nothing compared to the days she spent walking in her dreams and creating. And Ariadne had always loved a challenge, the ability to push the boundaries of what she could do, and advance further than that.

It was kind of awkward for her at the beginning; working with people was never too much of an issue for her, but being brought into dreams seemed more intimate. It wasn't like having drinks with co-workers, because they ended up knowing more than a conversation over cold beers could ever amount to. Once, she had allowed Cobb and Arthur into her dreamscape. She was sure that Cobb or even Arthur noticed the mute silence in her mindscape. Ariadne noticed that her projections were always working on buildings or incomplete bridges, not many were at leisure's behest.

Once Arthur made a comment that her bridges were incomplete because it was impossible to complete a bridge with burnt edges. She had laughed it off of course, feeling flustered he was able to see through her so easily. She spent the rest of the day teaching Yusuf and Eames the layout of New York and mountain fortresses, ignoring the grand scale hotel in the corner.

_The light that managed to peek through those thick velvet curtains was very warm. This is what warmth had felt like_.

Then the day of the Fischer job arrived, and everything seemed to tilt once more before coming into a balance and freeze. Staying alongside Dom Cobb as he wrestled to retake control over his own subconscious from Mal, Ariadne learned that there was more than creating. That there was more outside of the dream, and it was_ living_.

The adventure she signed on to assist in inception on Fischer was the buildup to her epiphany. The small kiss between her and Arthur was the slow burn of sparks and the gun between her hands after Dom's confession was the flint. The lackluster life she was living in Paris wasn't living—it was dying slowly with the highest aspiration being a corporate cubicle with her name on it. She wanted to feel alive, to live and to love, not to continue through the motions of monotony.

_Ariadne drank in the sight of crumbling buildings and crashing waves below and stepped forward. _


	2. A means to an end

Ariadne thinks her breaking point and what made her seal the deal to return, hours after her first meeting Cobb—and getting stabbed, was the regular brag-fest with her Architect student friends at the café. Yes, there wasn't much life outside of a college students life—much less an architect students, so they got their jollies where they could. They rewarded the person with the most comfy nest under the worktable with drinks for goodness sake (_it was sad Ariadne knew_). It was after Cord—her neighboring worktable in Prison (what they called the Architect school) commented on the world… "Wow! Does the world look yellow and fuzzy to you?"

_It wasn't even ten minutes past, before Ariadne realized her feet were taking in her to the closest taxi. _

It was better not to tell Cobb or Arthur that the actual reason she returned to their ramshackle headquarters was not that she pulled in by the intellectual appeal and limitless creation. No, if anything, those were just icing to the cake…and the sprinkles if you would. Ariadne had a much more poignant reason, one that only true architecture students could only relate.

_Sleep_.

An architecture student's dream beyond the drafting papers and computer models consisted of hours and hours of _sleep_. Maybe it seemed shallow and incredibly crazy (hence the reason she let Cobb assume whatever reasons for her return), but it was the truth. But fuck, she was tired of having to replace another backup alarm clock—she had broken her last one against Cord's stupid model of Pamela Lee Anderson ("_NO! Her beautiful boobies! Ariadne, how could you?")_

If there was an opportunity of sleeping in an actual bed instead of cocoons of blankets under her worktable and not having to live off massive amounts of coffee (Ariadne was sure that she bled the substance by now). She would take it by the balls and make it her bitch.

There's nothing quite like a full eight hours of sleep. "It's pure creation." _In dreamland._


	3. Ariadne the Badass

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, the idea or the characters. It belongs to Nolan who is the man!

A/N: Okay, not beta-d so forgive my grammatical errors.

Ariadne was a badass

He had played many a game, wheeled and dealed and ran ram shod over many effin' idiots in his day, but this was ludicrous. She was just a bloody little girl, there would have to be three of her combined to actually stand equal in mass to him (and Eames knew he was a bruiser, he was told often enough). And there she was smiling away as if sunshine was blowin' out her arse. He had to work hard to give his irritation away by the twitch of his eyebrow.

"It's your call Eames. I raised you 5 black chips." Ariadne said, a poker chip tumbling over her hand (it was a trick that took him years to perfect) with the ease of a professional. It was just Arthur, Ariadne and Eames now; the others had folded. Arthur had conceded defeat, throwing his hand to join the others.

It was by mere chance that Ariadne walked in on the guys weekly poker nights (her schoolwork was finished she said, the little interloper) and asked if she could join. Using her cutesy brown eyes and pouty lips (damn her!) to convince them all. Eames had gone along with it merrily; after all, he had no compunctions about robbing her blind (fairly, of course) in poker.

She had started innocently, expectedly folding the first few games, asking questions about different hands—acting cute (and maybe she was, Arthur seemed more than willing to explain every nuance of the game _that wanker_). Then Eames noticed, (besides the discreet twinkle to her eyes that was _kind of_ adorable dammit) that she was beginning to amass a pile of poker chips. That was when Eames was starting to suspect that Ariadne had been trying to pull wool over everyone's (in the team) eyes.

Eames stilled the smug grin that was trying to creep its way onto his scruffy face. _Not this time though. _"Your little reign of terror is at its end now ducks." He places five black poker chips to the pot along with his hand facedown, "Four of a kind darling."

He was a swindler by trade, gambling was second nature to him and Eames was damn good at it. It was mere coincidence that Ariadne presently owned the largest pile of chips (had the most money, because they never played half-arsed and used fake money).

Ariadne was the architect of the group, near genius in intelligence who was also a bleeding heart and also a sweetheart. Compared to every other person in the team (dubbed the Men's club plus one after how badass they were, his idea _of course_) she kind of faded into the back drop. Ariadne couldn't take down a man twice her size in a showdown, nor could she shoot a gun straight (he almost lost his bollocks in trying to teach her). However, there something about Ariadne that made her on an equal playing field (level of baddass).

Ariadne's eyes widened and her lower lip jutted out in a pout (Arthur put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder). Eames knew he had her… until her pout curled into a smirk and she laid down her cards. He saw red diamonds. A, K, Q, J, 10…_What the fuck_?

"Royal flush!" Ariadne exclaimed gleefully, "I guess I got pretty lucky…_darling_." Arthur laughed, he loved reveling in Eames suffering. Cobb gave his usual half-agonized half-content look. Saito and Yusef were just smirking in silent amusement. Eames was shell-shocked; he didn't know whether to be mad, sad, or glad.

Then he smirked, "Well played ducks." Oh yeah, Ariadne could be badass too.


	4. The in between

Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights to Inception, all Chris Nolan's =)

In Between

Ariadne always liked to consider all things (situations, choices, places) equally. Her mom was a lawyer and her dad a chemist so facts and unbiased observations (_never_ opinions those were biased) were only considered in their household. So when her parents divorced just before she graduated (neither showed by the way, she had to get a ride home with a friend), Ariadne decided to live with neither and go to Paris. She had just turned eighteen, so Ariadne was free to go as she pleased. Ariadne was glad for the scholarship she had, because neither parent was willing to help financially (it wasn't like they were poor, rejection was a hard pill to swallow).

Therefore, if she were asked whom she loved more, she could reply neither. Ariadne disliked both of them equally.

In beginning of her first year of college, Ariadne had two roommates who were opposites. One liked to party, skip classes, and perpetually complain. The other liked to read, had perfect attendance, and stewed quietly on her grievances. She couldn't say whether she preferred one over the other (even though most would assume the quiet one was the better option). Party girl Irina, although as deep as a puddle was incredibly nice and Quiet Serena (Ariadne thought it ironic their names rhymed) was timid and awkward at times. Nevertheless, she loved them both equally, because Irina gave her a social life and Serena made her studious (the tension between them was thick though, waiting for the scales to tip).

In the end of her first year of college, Ariadne had applied for a single room.

When Ariadne met Cobb, went into his dreams and thrust out of his dreams. She was curious about Mal, wanted to know who she was and what she was. Arthur (whom she decided was quite interesting and quite handsome) helped to fill in the void of unknowns on the mysterious Mal. She wanted to help Cobb, felt bad for Cobb; after all, the Mal she knew was all jagged edges and coiled tension.

But, when she washed up onto the shore of limbo, where buildings crumbled and the city resembled a glorified grave, she felt equally bad for Mal. In that lonely suite, that once resembled a home Ariadne learned that Cobb first performed inception on his wife (his other half_, his lover_) that things came to a standstill for her.

When Ariadne fell those thousands of feet into the waters below she didn't know what to feel about both Cobb and Mal. She only knew that she couldn't side with either, despite how much Ariadne liked Cobb, she understood Mal too (the descent made more sense now).

Two weeks after the Fischer job, she had gotten calls from both Arthur and Eames (they liked her work, would she work for…). Ariadne told them, that she would be interested to work, but only together. She liked Arthur's quiet dedication to his work, and Eames' charming personality (not to mention they were both extremely handsome).

It worked out in the end anyways; they worked beautifully together (despite the occasional squabbles between Arthur and Eames).

After months of working together, Arthur finally broke his façade of posh veneer and quiet patience (too many moments of caught gazes across the room and accidental brushes of skin against skin that drove him mad with longing). His dark eyes on her face and his hands (Ariadne would describe them deceptively strong, _perfectly Arthur_) on her slender shoulders. "I love you Ariadne." His face twisted, from tense to forced blankness. "I'm not crazy about it. But I would prefer you felt the same."

It was typically Arthur to say something that intense, and follow it up with his dry sarcasm, Ariadne mused. Before taking his face (she found it cute he was so intensely serious, _only Arthur_) and fusing their lips together in a kiss. When they parted (_with flushed faces and bruised lips_) Ariadne gave him a quick peck (_he was too cute sometimes_) and told him she loved him too. She smiled as his relieved expression (an expression unnecessary, she was his long ago if Arthur had realized it sooner).

Most would say that Ariadne preferred to stay neutral on most things and it was true to some degree. However, Ariadne would differ when it came to Arthur because there was no comparison and no other half (_but she would consider herself that now_). If Ariadne was asked whom she loved more, was attracted to more, favored more—there was no equal in her eyes (_no doubt _to the depth of her feelings), there was only Arthur.


End file.
